


Midnight Panic

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A request from my tumblr: college AU in which Lance is sick and Keith panics and calls Shiro in the middle of the night.





	Midnight Panic

Keith woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of his roommate calling his name.

“Keith,” Lance’s voice, weak and raspy, pleaded, “Wake up.”

“What is it, Lance?” Keith asked, still half asleep.

“I don’t feel right,” Lance replied. Keith rolled over in bed without turning on the light.

“Go drink some water,” Keith instructed through a yawn.

“Head hurts,” Lance mumbled.

“Ibuprofen is in the medicine cabinet,” Keith informed. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for Lance to wake up a bit disoriented from a nightmare–midterms week was always bad for Lance. Not only did he have tests to study for, but the SGA organized on-campus stress-reducing events (which, for Lance, were enough work that they usually had the opposite effect), and there were always other student workers calling in sick from the coffee shop after pulling all-nighters cramming for tests. Keith heard Lance climb down from his lofted bed and stumble into the bathroom before he fell asleep once more.

Lance cursed under his breath and tried to climb down from his loft despite the pain in his back. Keith was the absolute heaviest sleeper that Lance had ever met–he was surprised, frankly, that he’d been able to wake him even for that short interaction–and one thing about Keith’s sleeping patterns was that he always, always fell back asleep after being awakened the first time. Lance joked that he could light Keith on fire while he was napping and his saving grace would only be the fact that he’d smother the flames when he rolled over to go back to sleep.

He’d known that he was probably coming down with a cold when he wasn’t hungry for dinner and had tried to study but couldn’t make the words stay still on the page. Lance had tried to just go to bed and sleep it off, but that plan had clearly backfired hard. He’d instead woken up feeling freezing cold and with a splitting headache, barely able to think straight. He felt sick enough to be slightly worried, through his confusion, that this might even be more than just a cold–perhaps the flu, and Lance had tended since childhood to spike high fevers when he had the flu. The last time he’d been ill with it, when he was probably 10 or 11, the last thing he remembered before waking up in the hospital was excruciating pain in his head and lower back.

Lance cupped his hands to drink some water from the bathroom tap, but as soon as the cool liquid touched his lips, he realized just how thirsty he was, and abandoned the hand-cup in favor of sticking half of his face underneath the faucet instead, chugging the water as fast as he could for several seconds until he felt nauseated.

He thought about taking the ibuprofen that Keith had suggested, but decided that his empty stomach probably wouldn’t like that, so he instead stumbled back toward his bed. Looking up at the loft, Lance dazedly realized that there was no way he was going to be able to climb the ladder to get to his bed, and so he opted for yanking the covers off his mattress and collapsing into the corner of the room.

That’s how Keith found him an hour later when he woke up to go to the bathroom.

“Lance?” Keith asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Lance stirred and moaned. “Why’re you on the floor?”

“Keith,” Lance breathed. The pain in his voice was all Keith needed to wake up, adrenaline pumping through his veins as if he’d just mainlined it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hitting his knees beside Lance in a heartbeat. He reached for Lance’s bedside lamp and observed as Lance winced away from the light source and noticed the flush on his pale face. “Are you sick?”

“I think it’s just a little bug,” Lance rasped, “but I can’t get back up to my bed.” Keith nodded sympathetically and scooped Lance up, blanket and all, and deposited him in his own bed.

“Mine’s closer to the ground,” Keith explained. “Do you have a fever?” he asked. Lance shrugged as Keith pressed his palm to Lance’s forehead. “Fuck me, you’re really burning up. Hang on.” He rummaged through their medicine cabinet for a digital thermometer and handed it to Lance, who complaisantly placed it under his tongue until it beeped. “Fuck me,” Keith whispered again under his breath, “104.2; fuck, Lance. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No,” Lance objected, “no hospitals.”

“You really need treatment,” he argued. “By doctors. You probably need fluids, too.”

“Drank a bunch of water,” Lance fought.

“Yeah, but you’re boiling it.”

“I’m not going to a hospital, Keith.”

Keith hesitated. “I’m calling Shiro. If he says you need to go, then you’re going. Deal?” Lance nodded and waited.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice answered, sounding sleepy and worried, “It’s so late; are you okay?”

“Lance is really, really sick,” Keith babbled. “I don’t know what to do. He’s got a fever over 104 and he says he won’t go to the hospital.”

“Lance has a thing about hospitals. Is he vomiting at all?” Shiro asked.

“Lance, have you thrown up?” Lance shook his head. “He says no.”

“Then as long as you keep him drinking water, he shouldn’t get dehydrated. I’m on my way over.” Keith could hear the jingle of car keys and the shuffle of Shiro hurrying out of his apartment. “But as long as the fever doesn’t persist more than a few hours or go up, I think we can manage without a hospital.”

“Okay,” Keith breathed, “okay. Thanks Shiro.”

“Keith? Ten minutes. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just try to relax. Do you have fever reducers, or should I stop at the store for some?”

“I have ibuprofen and Gatorade,” Keith replied. “Is that enough?”

“Perfect. Get him to drink some Gatorade–as cold as possible–and take the pills. I’m on my way.”

“I owe you one,” Keith said.

“Lance owes us both,” Shiro corrected calmly. He listened to Keith’s slightly rapid breathing for a few more moments. “Really, Keith. He’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Keith nodded even though Shiro couldn’t see him and hung up the phone.

“Shiro’s on his way over,” Keith informed Lance, holding out two pills and a bottle of Gatorade.

“Yay,” Lance deadpanned.

“I just–” Keith broke off, reaching for Lance’s forehead once more and sighing, “I really don’t like that fever.” Lance gave him a small smile.

“It happens,” Lance said. “It’ll pass soon.” Keith nodded and took a deep breath, allowing Lance to fall back asleep in Keith’s bed while he and Shiro fussed over him all night.


End file.
